


All That You Hold Dear

by Ghostwriter98



Category: Hannibal (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Abigail pov, Empath Will Graham, Everyone kink shames him pretty hard for it, Everything Hurts, Hannibal is cruel, Hunting, Kidnapping, M/M, Mason's got a thing for wendigos, Pining. Lots and lots of pining, Wendigo Hannibal, Will's a good dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-07-02 09:38:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15793893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostwriter98/pseuds/Ghostwriter98
Summary: Abigail just wants to live a normal life. She just wants to spend a quiet weekend out with her old hunting friends and her adoptive father Will and forget all about her court trial. The last thing she wants is for said hunting companions to try to kill her or for a wendigo obsessed with her father to come and kidnap them all.





	1. Whisked Away by the Wendigo

**Author's Note:**

> I've seen a few fics floating around that look at Hannibal and Will's relationship filtered through Abigail's perspective and they were super interesting so I thought I'd give one a crack. This is the result. Enjoy :). 
> 
> IMPORTANT: Although I’ve put this under the “Supernatural” and “Hannibal” fandom, there are no characters from the Supernatural series that appear in this fic. However, because this fic is based heavily on the “Wendigo” episode from Supernatural and borrows a lot of ideas and concepts regarding wendigos, I’ve felt the need to tag it. I imagine this fic acts as a sort of prequel to “Wendigo” with a few minor changes (mostly character).
> 
> Abigail's also around 17 in here. I'm not sure if that's her age in the show but that's what I've made her in this.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Abigail are kidnapped by Hannibal who has an intense interest in the former. Oddly enough, Abigail is the only one who notices this.

Abigail was tugged backwards. She stopped walking to investigate why and found that her shirt had caught onto yet another spiked pine cone. She took a moment to glare at the offending tree.

 _Pine trees. Fucking pine trees everywhere,_ she fumed to herself.

The pine cones had been clawing at her hair and catching onto her clothes throughout the entire forest trek. They reminded her of her court trial and the grubby journalists that had clutched at her arms as she made that dreaded walk up the court steps.  _“Abigail, is it true that you helped your father kill those girls? What compensation can the victims' families hope for? What’s it like having the man who killed your father appointed as your legal guardian? Abigail, over here! Smile! Smile for the camera!”_

Abigail clenched her eyes shut.

_No! Shut up! Go away!_

“Abigail, are you all right?” She let out a deep breath. The voice was deep and rough, soothing rather than loud and worried rather than eager for gossip. She opened her eyes and there was Will staring at her nose with furrowed brows.

“I’m okay. Thanks for asking.”

There was some scoffing up ahead and a muffled, “Princess.”

Will scowled, straightening back his shoulders. Abigail knew that stance. Will was about to release a plethora of biting remarks so harsh that even Jack, a solid wall of brawn and steel, was going to wince and it would no doubt get them kicked out of the hunting party. No, Abigail didn’t want that. The yearly hunting trip with her father’s friends was the only normal thing in her life now. She needed this normalcy to feel like a normal teenager again.  _Needed_  it like she needed air.

She placed a hand on Will’s arm and stared up at him with pleading eyes. Will gritted his teeth but otherwise said nothing. He brushed off the pine cone tangled in her clothes and walked stiffly beside her. Abigail sighed with relief. They were safe, for now.

It was no surprise that Will didn’t like Jack, Randall, Mason, Matthew or Cordell. Will didn’t do well with people. That’s one thing Abigail had learnt from the past eight months she’d spent living with him. Will would wince, twitch, rub his fingers or sigh when talking to most people, even those he  _did_  like. Will was adamant that it wasn’t because of his general aversion of people that he was wary of her father’s hunting friends though. It was because he had a “bad feeling” about them. Whatever that was supposed to mean. Will had tried to persuade her not to go with them to Blackwater Ridge. It was the best he could do knowing full well that she’d find a way to sneak off if he outright forbade her from going. After all, threats of grounding, phone confiscation and shouting didn’t frighten Abigail off undesired behaviour. She’d watched her father gut girls and vow she’d be next if she didn’t help for Christ’s Sake! It took a lot more than a few choice words to get her scared of a punishment.   

“Why so far from Baltimore, Abigail? So far from people who’ll notice us gone?” Will had said, trying to scare her. Will was so weirdly suspicious over the travelling aspect. Abigail had tried to explain to him that they always went to a new spot every year. That’s what made it fun. They would study maps and discover new locations and all the trees and the birds and the flowers would be different in some way from the forest before. Even the same bird species sounded different in different places. Blue Jays could chirp so loudly and happy in one forest and be dejected and distant in their calls in the next.

Abigail honed her ears. Here, in Blackwater Ridge, there were no Blue Jays. In fact, Abigail couldn’t hear any birds chirping at all. At the beginning of the trek there had been a few but now the air was quiet and still, almost as if the birds were afraid to sing. A prickle of unease rolled down her spine.

Abigail remembered the diner they had stopped at for lunch before they made their way up here. The server had tensed up when she learnt they were hunters exploring Blackwater Ridge. “Be careful,” she had warned, her dress swishing around her ankles. “And watch out for Hannibal.” “Who?” Abigail had asked, but she had already moved onto the next table and wouldn’t come back, even when Abigail pleaded for more coffee.

Abigail shook her head to herself. Something strange was definitely going on. 

Mason slumped to the ground, complaining about his sore feet. It brought Abigail back to the present, reminding her that she was in a forest, hunting; one of her favourite past times. So why was she so on edge? Pretty soon the rest of the group were sitting down too. It was now, while they were all stationary, that Abigail finally plucked up the courage to say something about her current concerns.

“Something’s not right,” she whispered to Will.

“I know,” Will replied, eyes focused on Matthew with a burning intensity. Matthew had a hunting knife in his hand and it was making an ominous shing noise as he sharpened it.

 _Drop point blade_ , her father’s voice murmured in her mind,  _2 ½ inches. Perfect for carving into deer and other...creatures._   

“Would you knock it off! I’m talking about the forest!” Abigail hissed. She was angry, angry at Will for making her notice Matthew and his stupid knife and leading her mind down this well-trodden path. The path of guilt, violence and self-hatred because how could she? How could she have helped her father kill those innocent girls? The answers there, buried deep down in her heart under more layers of self-hatred and denial. Survival. The will to live. That’s how. _It was me or them and I chose me._

“It’s mighty quiet. I sure hope there are deer around. We wouldn’t want to have come all this way to hunt nothing,” Mason smirked. His gaze was dark and Abigail flinched away. Had those blue eyes always looked so cold?

“Oh yes! I do so love a good hunt!” Randall chimed in, face bright with amusement. The two men shared a look as if they were in on some private joke.  

“I saw some tracks earlier,” Abigail murmured. She wanted, for a reason she couldn’t yet fathom, to assure them that there were plenty of entertaining things to hunt around in this quiet forest. It wasn’t even a lie, really. She had seen tracks. What had looked like hoof prints pressed into the soft dirt. Except, there had been something odd about the tracks because the pattern was all wrong for a four-legged beast. It seemed like it had two legs. Like, somehow, it was walking like a human. It chilled her now just thinking about it.

“Well, we better unpack,” Jack ordered gruffly.

“Hop to it, men.” Jack paused, “And erm woman.”

There was an eruption of laughter from all sides of the group. Mason’s laugh was loud and ugly, Randall’s was quiet and whispery, Jack’s gruff and embarrassed and Matthew, well, he was the only one quiet and opted instead to stare intensely at Will. Abigail tried to join in, but her voice came out hoarse and strained.

“I say we start hunting at once!” Mason announced. 

“Camp now,” Jack replied, shucking off his pack and pulling and prodding at the materials that would soon become a tent. “It’ll be dark soon.”

Mason pouted. “Buuuuuuut!”

“I agree with Jack. No need to rush the hunt. It’s always best to savour it, after all,” Randall chimed in, licking his lips.

“Randall, you traitor!” Mason spat, storming off to his partly assembled tent. Larger in size and more glamourous than the others, it would be fit for five people rather than two when fully assembled. Mason’s foot tapped as he impatiently waited for Cordell to finish it, throwing in sharp barbs and vague threats every once in a while.

Abigail felt a bit bad for the guy. Cordell was setting up Mason’s tent and had carried the majority of his and Mason’s equipment through the forest and so far he had received zero appreciation for his effort. She glowered at Mason.

 _Princess_ , Mason had called her.  _Hmpf, he was much better suited to the title._

She turned around and saw Will bent over with a metal pole in one hand and a peg loop in the other. He had the most adorable quizzical look on his face.

“Here.” She gently knocked Will’s hands away. “Let me.”

Will let her take the reins with a grateful smile and Abigail did her thing just like her father had taught her. She really couldn’t escape him, could she?

The minute the tent was built, they were inside. Will set up his sleeping bag near the tent’s entrance like an ever-present guard dog.

 

\----:----

 

She hadn’t even gotten more than five minutes of quality sleep before a dry palm was slapping her awake.

“Rise and shine, Princess,” Mason sneered down at her. “The moons out and it’s time to play.”

A hand curled around her arm and yanked her body with enough force that her teeth clattered together. She bit down on the hand that was covering her mouth and smothering her cries. It was vaguely sweaty and tasted of salt. Its owner was nervous. Sympathetic? She could work with that.

There was a groan of pain - Cordell’s voice - as the wounded hand retreated. Abigail took the opportunity to let out an ear splintering cry of, “Will!”

Will startled awake, his right hand slipping under his pillow and brandishing a knife all in the span of a second.

Mason’s eyes lit up with glee. “Ooh, Will’s got some bite. Matty’s going to like that.”

Matthew popped his head in and, true to Mason’s words, his entire face lit up like a Christmas tree at the sight of a knife wielding Will. Abigail vaguely wondered how so many people could fit into a tent meant for two. She shivered from a sudden breeze and looked up to find the tattered remains of the tent around her. It had been wretched apart, likely cut open, from the back.

“Now, Will. Put down the knife. We don’t want to have to hurt you,” Jack’s deep voice boomed.

“Jack?” Will’s voice was filled with surprise though that surprise was quickly being replaced with betrayal. “You’re in on this too?”

“Well, what did you think happened?”

“I thought Mason had killed you in your sleep, that’s what! You work for the fucking FBI, remember? The people who  _stop_  violent assaults, not aid and abet them. I can’t believe this is happening right now!”

“I know Abigail helped her father kill those girls.” Abigail flinched at Jack’s words. “There’s not enough evidence for her to be convicted but I know and I can’t let her go. I can’t let her go out and do it again.”

Abigail steeled herself. She was ready for this. She deserved this.

But Will - courageous, wonderful Will - who always saw the best in Abigail even when she herself couldn’t see it, stepped in front of her and pushed her behind him. He squared his shoulders, stance defensive. The message was clear.  _You can’t have her. She’s under my protection._

Abigail felt tears well in her eyes. He was too good for her. Always had been and always would be.

Will became unnaturally still. Abigail knew he was doing that thing.  _What was it again? Empathising?_

“You’re going to kill her!” Will suddenly shouted, his hands gesticulating wildly with the knife. Mason jumped back with a yelp, the blade just skimming past his thick jacket. Matthew’s cheeks darkened with a blush, his eyes softening even more until he looked utterly besotted. “You’re breaking the law. What you’re doing is murder!”

“I’m saving lives in the only way I know how,” Jack’s voice was stern. There would be no persuading him otherwise.

The men crept closer. Randall and Mason fanning out towards the back of Will and closer to her. Matthew remained at the front, probably to watch Will in action.

“You think these men agreed to this murder scheme because they’re all good-natured vigilantes?” Will scoffed, likely feeling the same excitement and blood lust in the air as Abigail did. “You know damn well they’re not here for justice. They just want a taste of blood. You’ve surrounded yourself with murderers, Jack. You’ve lost it.”

Jack grimaced. “I’ll deal with them later. Now, hand over the girl.”

“Over my dead body.”

“That can be arranged,” Mason purred and launched himself, his outstretched hands going for Will’s throat. Matthew ducked forward with a screeched “No!” The two men bodily slammed into each other and fell to the ground where they began to roll around in a scuffle. Cordell seemed unsure, his right foot forward, his left foot back, seemingly torn between helping his boss and watching the fight from a safe distance.

Randall and Jack made eye contact and nodded. Together, they attacked while Will was distracted. Jack went for Will’s knife, slamming down hard on his wrist. The knife fell to the grass but that didn’t stop Will from raising his left fist and dealing a hard punch that sent Jack’s head reeling. Abigail was impressed. Will had some serious moves. Will spun around and kicked out Randall’s leg. Randall fell to his knees and darted forward, mouth opening and clamping down in a hard bite that broke through Will’s pants.

“Shit,” Will cursed and kicked at him again.

Abigail watched in growing horror as Jack snuck up behind Will. She opened her mouth, trying to scream out a warning but no sound came out. It was like her voice was trapped in her throat. Jack’s big hands crashed down on Will’s windpipe and no matter how he struggled and flailed, Jack’s grip held firm.

“Behind…bag,” Will wheezed, breathes coming out in short pants. “Rifle. Behind…my…bag. Loaded. Ready.”

Abigail scrambled forward, her hands shaking as she shoved aside her own bag. Looking. Searching for that shiny butt, the glint of the sights, the familiar shape of the muzzle. A tug. She glanced down, horrified to see that Randall had her leg between his teeth and suddenly she was being dragged away.  _There! There!_  She saw it nuzzled in the thick grass. _There!_  She stretched her fingers out, she could just brush the butt of it. Smooth. So close.

A roar. Deep and guttural and utterly terrifying. 

Everyone froze.

It was a sound no man could make. Not even Randall because though he was a beast in many other ways, his vocal cords could never produce such a sound.

The roar was followed by the thud, thud, thud of footsteps. Something was approaching. Abigail thought of the tracks from earlier and she knew then that they had been made by this beast. The same beast that had frightened an entire forest into grave silence. The same creature the server had ominously warned them about. The monster of nightmares.  _Hannibal._  

It appeared slowly like a mirage. Though Abigail had a sense that this was more for show and that the beast could move much faster if it was so inclined. It had something to do with the muscled legs of the thing and the way it bobbed in the wind left, right, left, right as though readying itself at the first gunshot to dart out of range.

Hannibal stopped before them, its white eyes scanning over the group. Its hoofed feet and the large wrack of antlers were the only things on it that resembled the bucks that they had come to hunt. In between these two features, it morphed into something of a person. It had human looking thighs and knees, arms that were long with elbows, a torso relatively flat and furless, and a face shaped like a mans. There was something distinctly unnerving about these features though. They were almost too sharp to be human. The stomach was full of protruding ribs, the face had cheekbones that jutted out unnaturally and the fingers of the beast were long and claw like.

 _Dangerous_ , something in her hind brain whispered. _Run. Run now._

The not quite human yet not quite buck turned its head, eyes doing a quick sweep of them. Abigail imagined _he_  was planning out each kill because the beast was certainly a  _he_ , given that antler wrack and that masculine face. Hannibal's gaze lingered on her. Well, not quite. It was near her but not exactly on her. She twisted around to look at Will and Jack. Jack’s choke-hold had slackened and Will was currently heaving on all fours as he desperately tried to fill his lungs with air, panting loudly like an animal. Abigail wondered if Hannibal recognised something there, something distinctly feral. Will glanced up, curious about why everyone had stopped fighting and locked eyes with Hannibal. Abigail gasped because this was the first time she’d seen Will make eye contact with anyone and it was a powerful, heady thing. She could almost feel the connection between them forming in the tension filled air.

“You are evil incarnate,” Will exclaimed breathily. “You hunger for death, destruction and pain and you will stop at nothing until you’re sated.”

Hannibal’s head titled to the side. The beast didn’t seem offended. If anything, he seemed…curious.

Then there was a shctst noise as some idiot thought it’d be wise to reach for a rifle and take a shot at the beast. Hannibal was gone in an instant, a blur of black that the naked eye couldn’t trace. He reappeared, stilling for a moment as he popped up in front of a trigger-happy Cordell. With a swift move of his claw, he bent the barrel down until it curved its way back to aim at the man’s stomach. Then with delicate clawed hands, he pressed the trigger. Cordell ducked out of the way, crumpling to the dirt. Abigail blinked and Matthew fell, then Mason, then Jack. In less than a minute, she could see no one standing except her. She trembled, goose bumps littering her skin as she looked for Will, hopeful beyond reason that she wasn’t alone. She saw his familiar brown boots lying on the ground and, tracing up his leg with her eyes, she noticed nothing and then something blinked into focus.  _Black. A claw._  She squinted and Hannibal shifted, the outlines of his form shimmering as he came into view bent over Will. His white eyes were narrowed as he sniffed delicately.

A short-terrified wail spilled past Abigail’s lips. She gasped, slapping her hands over her mouth to silence herself. Hannibal’s head snapped to the side. A second later, something barrelled into her stomach and she was falling. Abigail hit the ground hard. The last thing she saw was razor-sharp teeth glinting above her and a dark chasm coming closer and closer.

Then everything went black.

 

\----:----

 

Abigail woke slowly, finding her movements were weak and stilted. She flexed her fingers then her wrists to test them. She met a resistant tug. Abigail tipped her head back with a groan. Sunlight filtered through the wooden planks above her, making her wince. She made out a rope and realised with growing concern that she’d been bound to the wooden ceiling by her hands, leaving her entire body stretched out and vulnerable.

“Will?” she whispered hoarsely. She felt the familiar burn of tears and bit her lip, stifling a sob. She was alone. Alone in the monster’s den. Alone like she’d always been.

“I’m here, Abigail,” Will soothed. “I’m right here. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”

She felt something tickle her ankle. She flinched, her mind’s eye conjuring up a pointed black claw. She relaxed when she realised the thing was too rounded to be that and had the distinct soft feel of a worn shoe.

Abigail nudged Will back with the toe of her boot. God, what she would give for a hug right now. This slight touch was better than nothing though. At least she had that ticking sensation, physical reassurance that Will was alive and beside her.

 _But for how long?_ Abigail thought ominously.

“As touching as that is, can we put the mushy stuff on hold? We really need to come up with an escape plan.”

Abigail couldn’t help but agree, even if she was more than a little annoyed by the owner of said advice.  _Jack fucking Crawford_. The man in question was currently trying to lift his legs above his head in some sort of highly acrobatic police manoeuvre. Maybe he thought that if he put enough weight on the rope it would break? It seemed pretty stupid to Abigail.

“I’m not working with you, Jack. You say you’re after justice and then go and plan a homicide with a bunch of killers. You’re full of bullshit,” Will sneered.

“I second that!” Abigail agreed, craning her head to the side and locking eyes with Jack. “You suck.”

“I can see that you’re upset, Will,” Jack replied matter of factly, completely ignoring her like an asshole. “If it makes you feel any better, I planned to arrest them after they killed Abigail for being accomplices in her murder.”

“Hey!” Randall shouted.

“You were going to throw us under the bus?!” Matthew added.

Mason seemed calmer than his murderous companions as he leisurely replied, “Well, I was going to do the same to you, so I guess I can’t get that mad.” A pause. “With murder and torture instead of arrest though. Oh, and the motivation would be for not liking the way you bossed me around earlier rather than for hurting Abigail.” Another pause. “Really, the only thing the same is the backstabbing part.”

“I’m not sorry. To any of you,” Jack said plainly. “You’d be getting what you deserve.”

“What about me, huh?” Would I be getting what I deserve?”  Will snarled.

“I was going to try and keep you out of it but if that didn’t work…” Abigail heard the shuffle of fabric as Jack shrugged. A God damn shrug. A careless, oh you know how it is, you win some, you lose some. “I guess I’d just call it collateral damage.”

Abigail felt anger course through her. Jack wanted to kill her, fair enough. She wouldn’t begrudge him for that. She wasn’t a saint and karma was a thing she believed in and had expected from the very beginning when she saw the first girl, pale and cold, laying on her father’s gutting table. She had thought to herself:  _That’s going to be me someday. I’ve helped my Dad kill girls and take their organs and somehow someday the world is going to put me on the chopping block._  Will though. Will didn’t deserve any of this. He didn’t deserve to be killed in the woods protecting a murderous teenager with terrible taste in friends. He didn’t deserve to be strung up, some appetizer for some beast.

The guilt was back, curdling in her stomach. She felt sick and wondered if she would be able to angle her body fair away enough to avoid getting vomit on herself.

“Oh no! She’s going to spray and I don’t mean that in the good blood way!” Mason shrieked.

The sound of clopping echoed in the cavernous space and the vomit in Abigail’s throat ducked back down into her stomach to hide. She wished she could do the same. She stared down at her feet, not wanting see Hannibal again. Beside her feet was the glinting metal of railway tracks.

 _A mine shaft! They were in a mine shaft_! Abigail felt a stirring of hope.  _Railway tracks were built to carry stuff outside_.  _These tracks can us lead out of here!_

She glanced up, wanting to share a look with Will. The _hold on, I have a plan, everything’s going to be okay_ look.

She came face to face with white eyes instead. She couldn’t help it, she screamed. The beast’s mouth ticked but otherwise remained impassive, probably long used to people yelling in his face. Hannibal's long, sharp claws touched her face and trickled down her neck to rest there.

“Hey!” Will called. “Hey you, over here!”

Hannibal turned and Abigail caught a glint of delight in his eyes. It was almost as if the beast had been hoping that Will would try to attract his attention.  

Hannibal moved towards Will inhumanely fast. Will jerked, obviously just as surprised as Abigail at the fast speed of his blurred movements. The beast’s claws followed the same journey as they had on her. Except, Hannibal’s movements seemed softer to her, more delicate as he mapped the planes of Will’s face and dipped down over his collarbones. Will’s breathing speed up but he remained still. He was gritting through it for  _her._  Abigail felt her heart swell with love for Will. Sacrificial, caring, loving; he was everything she’d ever wanted, dreamed of really, in a father.

The claws made their way down Will’s arms, stomach and legs; prodding and pushing and feeling. It felt like an eternity before it was over. Then the beast moved onto the next person, Mason, who started giggling of all things.

“Oh stop, that tickles, you fiendish thing!” The words were high and breathy and had an almost flirtatious quality to them but that couldn’t be right. Who would flirt with a monster?

The beast moved away, his lips twisting slightly in disgust.

“Oh, wait! Come back. I didn’t mean to scare you off,” Mason cried, licking his lips as he stared at his - Okay, Mason was definitely trying to be seductive here. Abigail always knew he was crazy, but this was something else.

Cordell was the next person inspected. Then Matthew, Jack and finally Randall were prodded. The beast’s touches were more clinical now. Abigail was reminded of a butcher, poking at an animal to determine whether it was fat and meaty enough for slaughter. Hannibal didn’t come back for her though and Abigail couldn’t help but feel unsettled. It felt like a reward. As if the beast was rewarding Will for offering himself in her place.

Hannibal stood back in obvious satisfaction as his eyes ticked back and forth between them all. Abigail thought he was calculating something but what, exactly, she wasn’t sure. Then Hannibal stepped towards Cordell. Each step was measured and precise as he took his time, playing with Cordell, playing with  _them._  Cordell’s gaze fluttered everywhere but Hannibal’s face. His breathing grew loud and his chest heaved as he inhaled great big gulps of air. Hannibal’s lips parted and Abigail shuddered, remembering what it was like to look up at those sharp teeth and see death. Then the dangerous mouth bit down with an audible crunch on Cordell’s right shoulder and snapped backwards with enough strength to rip. Blood splattered onto the dusty earth. Then there was screaming. Loud, guttural and haunting. It echoed and bounced around the walls. She looked up and saw muscle and raw flesh. Hannibal moved down. There was a loud craaaack and the arm was being pulled, pulled away from Cordell’s body. The screaming tapered upwards, high, frantic and Abigail joined in with a few sobs of her own.

“Abigail,” Will spoke urgently beside her. “Don’t watch. Focus on me. Focus on my voice. Listen to me. It’s going to be okay.”

There was a wet sound. The kind Will’s dogs made when their food was set before them and their tongues lolled and lapped up their dinner. She would never be able to hear them eat again without thinking of this moment.

“Abigail, talk to me. About something, anything,” Will pleaded.

She blurted out the first thing on her mind. “What do you thinks going to happen to the dogs?”

Will’s face dropped. It was obviously the wrong thing to say. Stupid Abigail _. Stupid, stupid, stupid._

Will swallowed, his throat clicking. “I hope Alana keeps them with her for as long as it takes for us to get back home.”

Abigail opened her mouth, about to protest about the sheer impossibility of that when they were literally tied up in a man-eating monster’s den, but Will bet her to it, “And we will get home. I promise.”

There was a lull. The screaming had morphed into low soft whimpers and the wet sound of chewing had stopped. Abigail thought the beast might be finished and maybe even hopefully gone. She glanced around and froze. Hannibal was staring right at her, white eyes so dark they were almost grey. Abigail wondered if maybe the beast was more man than she had previously thought and perhaps even understood what they were talking about. She felt uneasy with Hannibal looking at her like that, all stony and cold, acting like  _she_  was the danger here when it was obviously him.

He was the apex predator, after all. What kind of threat could she pose to him?

 

\----:----

 

The first night was strange. It was cold and hard to sleep. Her body shook so hard that she swore her bones rattled but that was likely more from fear than cold. There was a full moon out and at times moonlight gleamed through the cracks in the wooden ceiling, bathing the mine shaft in deep blues and dark shadows. It was like the mine had transformed into an underwater world where everything felt dreamlike and odd.

She swore she heard her own voice, talking in between snatches of sleep she stole. Her voice, yet not. The words were strange, too articulate to be her own.

“You will not be able to free yourself from those constraints. Best to stop now and avoid breaking a finger.”

“Damn it! I’ve gotten myself out of handcuffs before. I don’t get why this rope is so bloody hard.”

“Maybe it’s enchanted?”

“Haha, very funny.”

“I am being completely serious. This majestic being seems to be able to bend the laws of nature. He moves at incredible speeds for one and has enough strength to carry five grown men and a woman with ease. Who knows what other gifts he possesses.”

“Majestic being?”

“Ah, I mean the creature who has kidnapped us.”

“Still, majestic being?” She couldn’t help but agree with Will on that one, though her voice had a mind of its own.

“You don’t find him graceful in his actions? Though he may appear frightening, you must admit there’s a certain bewitching beauty to him.”

Will snorted. “Yeah, you're right, it makes everything else that happened today okay because he was graceful about his murdering. It was so beautiful I'm surprised the Gods didn't rain down tears of joy."

“Hmm, I feel as though you are being insincere with me, Will.”

“Of course I am! He kidnapped us, Abigail! He literally tore into a person in front of us! No matter how he did it, it doesn't change the fact that he’s a monster.”

Her voice replied, sharp and quick. “And these other men? They were going to dispose of us also and yet we haven’t labelled them as something as banal as monsters. If anything, this otherworldly creature has saved us. We should be grateful to him for he is our hero.”

“They weren’t going to eat us though! That’s!” Will floundered for a bit. “That’s worse!”

“Oh, you would rather be buried in some unmarked grave, decomposing and forgotten, than savoured and treated with the fine respect deserving of food? Would you rather your death be pointless and amount to nothing when it could be worthy and sustain a life?”

“YES!” Will’s voice boomed. They both held their breath then, frightened they’d awakened their captor. Abigail swore she heard a crunch to her left in an adjoining tunnel. It was too far away to be either of them given their tied-up predicament.  _A hoof on a dried leaf? A bird who’d wandered too far into the mine shaft? The tortured ghost of poor Cordell?_  They stood, suspended in fear.

They both let out a sigh of relief as time passed and no more noises were made.

“I’m sorry. I don't know why I'm being like this, raising my voice and being all snarky. I think everything's sort of catching up with me,” Will admitted softly. “To answer your question though, I’d rather be abandoned in a ditch than give sustenance to an evil creature who’ll only use the energy it gains from me to kill more people.”

“Evil? So you will see him as nothing but a villain then. An agent of death with no personality or heart?” Her voice sounded sad but that couldn’t be right? She couldn’t be pitying the beast.

“Look, yes, in a sense. I- I don’t get where this is coming from. I mean, it’s easier for me to see its side of things but for you to be this sympathetic is…” Will trailed off. “Christ, we need to get you out of here. Stockholm Syndrome might already be setting in.

“What do you mean easier for you to see  _his_  side of things?” There was an emphasis on the  _he._  As though she was trying to put it into Will’s mind that the creature had a male gender.

“You know, the empathy thing. I picked up on some stuff. Nothing too strong, just glimpses really. I think it’s harder for me because it’s not human and it projects its emotions differently. All I know is that it’s lonely, lonely and hungry, and it has been lonely and hungry for a very long time.”

“Interesting,” she mused. “Thank you for reminding me of your extraordinary gift.”

“Extraordinary,” Will scoffed.

“Yes, Will. Extraordinary.”

“I wish I could see it that way.” A pause. “You sound strange.”

 _Really_ , Abigail couldn’t help but want to scream.  _You’re only just realising this?_

“Perhaps you are dreaming. Although, I can’t help but wonder whether you prefer me this way.”

“It’s different. I wouldn’t say, you know, you sound better or worse or anything. I’m really glad I came with you on this trip though. I’d hate for you be going through this all alone.”

“I’ll never be alone, Will. I have you here now,” she replied, and the self-assurance in her voice was enough to make her cringe. God, she sounded like an entitled brat. Worse, she sounded like Mason.

“That’s right. I’m here and I’ll never leave you,” Will promised.

“You swear on all that you hold dear?”

That didn’t sound good. That didn’t sound good at all. Abigail opened her mouth, wanting to convince Will to stop, to not agree to whatever she’s saying in this weird sleep and awake in-between. 

“I swear.”

Her heart plummeted and a feeling of cold foreboding trickled through her. This right here felt like the beginning of the end.

 

\----:----

 

“I think I’ve figured out what our darling kidnapper is,” Mason informed everyone loudly.

“Darling?” Jack growled. He wasn’t in a good mood. Dislocating both your thumbs and then realising that not only did that method of escaping your restraints not work there is also now no way for you to pop back both aching thumbs, tended to put a damper on one’s mood. 

“He’s a wendigo,” Mason explained. “After he made quite a feast out of Cordell, may his corrupt soul rest in peace, I was reminded of a book of gruesome fairytales my papa had. Stories of sirens, krakens and vampires. He used to read them to me at bedtime. Such a great papa he was!”

“I’m not sure great is the word I’d use,” Will muttered under his breath. Matthew just hummed and nodded along like he did every time Will spoke.

“Shut it, Will! You’re just jealous because your papa was never around!” Mason snapped, a childish insult that hit its mark if Will’s wince was anything to go by. Abigail narrowed her eyes at Mason, her hatred for him only seeming to grow with time.

“Now, where was I? Oh yes. There was this one story about a hunter who gets lost in the woods with his family. Slowly, one by one, his daughter and son and wife are stolen by this creature until finally it comes for him and, get this, it eats him whole.” Mason sighed wistfully. “All that’s left of the family in the end is a regurgitated shoe. Oh, it’s my favourite of all the stories!”

“Sounds like my kind of hunter,” Randall murmured approvingly.  

“It’s based off folklore. A creature called a wendigo.”

“A person who was once a human but turned into a wendigo after resorting to cannibalism. Its hunger is never sated, no matter how many people it eats,” Jack finished.

There was silence as everyone stared at Jack incredulously.

Jack was instantly defensive. “What? We had a killer on the loose with Wendigo Psychosis once. I did some research into the surrounding myths because I thought it might help solve the case.”

“And you didn’t think that this information might have been useful earlier?” Will snarked.

“I didn’t realise what we were dealing with!”

“Guys, that’s enough fighting! We need to work out an escape plan,” Abigail piped up.

 “Escape? Now why would we want to escape?” Mason asked, genuinely confused.

“Because we’re not all fucked up like you. We don’t find the idea of being eaten alive fun!” Abigail sneered.

“I don’t want to be eaten by it! Well, I do but not in the literal sense. I want it to eat my-”

“Okay, that’s enough! Young ears are listening!” Will interjected loudly.  

“Don’t be a prude, Will. If she can kill with her papa then she’s old enough to learn about human sexuality.”

“I don’t know how things work in your household but that’s not how I run things. My daughter-” Will cut himself off, eyes wide with fear. “Abigail, I’m sorry. I get that it’s too soon. I’m not trying to replace your father or anything. Oh God, that came out wrong, I-”

Will paused, noticing the giant smile on Abigail’s face. She was beaming so hard that her face hurt but she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

“Abigail?”

“It’s alright,” Abigail said and winked. “ _Dad.”_

Will’s lower lip wobbled and his eyes became teary.  

“Touching. Very touching. Can we get back to this plan now, Abigail?” Jack impatiently interrupted them.

“We’re in a mine and the tracks should lead us out.”

Jack just gaped at her. His eyes slowly became molten with fury until he finally exploded in a loud roar, “Do you have any idea how many tunnels there are in a mine all fitted with railway tracks?! A bloody lot and we don’t even know how far they go!”

“At least she’s trying! What have you done, huh? Nothing,” Will spat.

“Stop! No fighting,” Abigail pleaded. “As much as I hate the idea of working with a bunch of guys who tried to kill me, we kind of need to work together to get out of this.”

There was a cacophony of raised voices as everyone let it be known just how against the idea of working with the girl they tried to kill and the cop that wanted to backstab them they were. Then the trotting started up again and all conversation instantly died.

Hannibal was back and he had brought back, Abigail squinted, purple looking mush. On closer inspection, she realised they were berries.

 _Food,_ Abigail’s mind whispered.  _He’s fattening us up._

The beast -  _wendigo now,_ Abigail supposes - pierced one ripe berry onto the tip of his claw and raised it to Randall’s lips. The man took it in easily enough after a bit of prodding. He chewed fast, jaw clenched tight as he got it all moist and then spat it back out. The message was clear: _I’m not like the rest of these cowards and I will fight you._

Hannibal blinked, his eyes blank. He bent close, pressing his face against Randall’s chest. The man jerked his head backwards, just missing a tine of antler that would have surely poked out his right eye. The wendigo softly swiped his head back and fourth, cleaning off as much of the spit and half chewed berry from his face as he could on Randall’s clothes. He then leaned back, mouth pressed into a thin displeased line. Abigail felt her heart stop. The claw was back. This time with no berry. It pried past lips and teeth, forcing its way inside Randall’s mouth to feel around. It then hooked and pulled. Randall coughed and spluttered and moaned while Abigail watched. She couldn’t stop watching. It felt good to watch him suffer. The bite marks he’d once left on her ankle seemed to agree and throbbed with approval. Hannibal’s claws came back out of Randall's mouth glittering wet with blood. The man kept groaning and coughing until something splattered onto the floor.

 _A tongue_ , Abigail realised,  _red and unattached._

Hannibal bent down to scoop it up, the movement one long graceful swoop. He then held it up proudly for all to see. The warning was clear.  _Behave or else._

Hannibal then pressed the tongue to his lips and with a slurp it was gone. He moved onto Jack, berry pierced claw raised and waiting. Jack opened his mouth automatically and ate as quickly as he could least he displease the creature and also find himself missing a valuable asset. Matthew was next, then her.

Abigail chewed and swallowed so fast that she was sure she was going to either get indigestion or choke, but it was worth it. Anything was worth avoiding those cold dead eyes of Hannibal’s. The berries weren’t very good and tasted bitter and acidic. She didn’t think they were meant to be good anyway and imagined it was more for the wendigo’s benefit than her own. Her father had explained to her once that animals tasted different dependent on their diet. Many a girl was spared an extra day of life because of a quick duck into a fast food joint. Abigail couldn’t help but ponder if that was what was happening now. If Hannibal was trying to make them all tasty. 

Mason was next. At least he seemed to enjoy the hand -  _uh,_  claw feeding - if the moaning and slurping and literal claw licking was anything to go by.

Hannibal looked down at his arm afterwards with a look of abject horror.

“There’s a lot more where that came from, baby.” Mason winked and then let out a low burp.

“Oh, excuuuse me!” he laughed obnoxiously. 

She shook her head. That man was playing a dangerous game. The type that would come back to bite him in the arse and not, as Mason so often put it, “in the fun way”.

Will was last and was given the most berries of them all. Hannibal delicately placed each on the tip of Will’s tongue and he took it, chewing fast and swallowing quick, trying to get it over with like the rest of them. It seemed Hannibal wasn’t having this though. He tutted and fed Will slower trying, in Abigail’s mind, to prolong the intimacy. When something caught in his throat and Will coughed and spewed spit at Hannibal, the wendigo didn’t freeze like he’d done with Randall. And though Will trembled when he came close, likely thinking he was about to lose a tongue, Hannibal stroked at his throat with his forehead furrowed just so with concern.

Mason seemed surly at this, claiming, “You didn’t feed me that way. I thought I was your favourite human snack! This is sooooo unfair!”

He then proceeded to stomp his right foot like an absolute child.

Hannibal glared at Mason and Abigail could almost guess the wendigo’s thoughts. That a tongue would soon be lost if said man didn’t stop flapping it about. The wendigo then turned back to Will and his eyes softened.  

 _Hannibal cares for Will,_  Abigail realised with growing awe _. And where there is softness, there is weakness and weakness can be manipulated_.

A new plan was brewing in Abigail’s mind and it was a good one.

 

\----:----

 

Time passed slow in the tunnels. Who knew if it had been weeks or months. Sometimes, Abigail felt like years had passed. The days all bled together into a routine. Hannibal would feed them whatever he scavenged in the forest. A particular tang came with some of the charred meat Hannibal had hunted and cooked and she couldn’t help but give Hannibal some side eye.  _Oh, you devilish creature, you._ Hannibal lit fires at night now too. That was something new and not very safe (Not that a mine fire really mattered to Hannibal, he could easily out run one. Them on the other hand...). She supposed the fires started because the wendigo was frightened of the way they shivered in the winter months. Well, the way Will shivered, anyway. Abigail imagined that in Hannibal’s mind the rest of them could all just die.

Hannibal didn’t do much to refute the argument. The day Will began sniffling, nose runny and cheeks red, was the day the first small fire miraculously appeared. Hannibal seemed particularly wary of the flame, dancing out of its way with that super human speed of his every time it crackled and a flame leapt near him. Abigail liked to imagine that his skin was as highly flammable as the inky oil it resembled. She also liked to imagine it lit up like a Christmas tree and the way he’d screech in pain as the flames engulfed him. Then it would be him crying for mercy and not them for once.

 _Maybe_ , she thought grimly,  _there’s a little of my dad in me, after all_.  

After feeding, Hannibal would usually prod at them, checking for signs of weight loss and ill health. Usually, this led into the next step which was the bathing stage. Basically, Hannibal licked away all the sweat and dirt and tears they’d wracked up over the course of the day. It had been terrifying at first. His tongue was rough like a cat’s and black with grey little taste buds. It had rasped against her skin and Abigail had been so sure Hannibal was going to take a bite out of her arm the first time he’d done it. Then she realised what is was. That he was cleaning her for lack of better word and then it became weird. Over time, weird somehow morphed into the norm. It got to the point that Abigail couldn’t even remember what it was like to have a shower anymore, too accustomed to wet saliva and a licking tongue than warm water spray. Will didn’t seem to mind. In fact, being bathed was the only time he seemed to truly relax. He closed his eyes, all the tension leaving him with a soft sigh and he seemed to go somewhere else. Abigail imagined that he thought of the soft lap of the tongue (and it was soft because Hannibal was always gentle with Will) like the way water laps at a person’s ankles in a stream of water. He probably did that thing where he imagined himself fishing. It was one of the little jokes between them back when Abigail had lived with Will in his house in Wolf Trap. Will would zone out and Abigail would ask, “Where are you, Will?” and he’d always say without fail, “Gone fishing” and she’d ask, “Can I join?” and they’d mentally fish together and it was always beautiful.

Today, though, something was wrong. They had paused at the prodding stage. Randall seemed to have failed the health test. Hannibal was watching him with keen eyes, watching each shift of his limbs and each slow inhale. Then his claws broke through the rope. It fell to the floor seemingly in slow motion and everyone stopped breathing.

_Is this it? Is Hannibal finally going to let them go?_ _Abigail couldn’t help but wonder._

Hannibal inclined his head into the direction of a nearby tunnel. Randall stalled at the invitation, rocking back and forth on the heels of his feet.

“Run,” Will translated, his eyes vacant. “He wants you to run.”

Randall hesitated, wisely questioning his apparent luck. He mouthed the question, “Why?”

Hannibal smiled, sharp pointed teeth glittering in his mouth. Both the wendigo’s and Will’s head tilted in tandem. It was beyond creepy.

Then Will said, “You’re not the only one who likes to hunt.”

Randall’s face instantly paled and he let a groan. Pleading? Praying? Who knew?

“RUN!” Mason howled, obviously jealous of Hannibal and Will’s little moment and wanting to be a part of it. He wrung his hands in his restraints and cackled loudly, saliva and spit frothing from his mouth like a rabid animal.

Abigail jumped at Mason’s shout and her bound hands caught onto something as she swung forward. She peeked upwards. There was a nail twisted and protruding from the wooden beam that supported the ceiling. It was sharp. Sharp enough to cut.   

Meanwhile, Randall had sprinted so fast that his body pitched forward and he overbalanced, crashing into a nearby wall. He righted himself, scraping his palm against the rock as he bolted.

Mason’s laugh, loud and maniacal, rang in the dark chasm which combined with the rhythmic beat of fast pounding footsteps and the tap, tap of Hannibal’s claws, sounded like a song. A sick, twisted melody of suffering and Hannibal was the proud orchestrator of it all.

Then it abruptly stopped. Hannibal stilled, Mason fell backwards against his binds having tired himself out and Will appeared dazed as he came back to himself. The pounding thump of footsteps was gone. There was nothing but silence.  

Hannibal walked forward slowly and took a deep whiff of the drying blood. His tongue darted out for a lick and he swirled it around with his eyes closed. It was as though he was cataloguing the scent into his memory. His eyes opened and then he was gone in a flash.

Hannibal returned a few hours later Randall-less. Abigail was ninety nine percent certain Hannibal had eaten him because though she hadn’t seen or heard anything, Hannibal was wearing a very smug look on his face and he had a slightly distended belly which he took great care to rub in front of them. Abigail wasn’t buying into his bullshit. If the wendigo wanted them afraid, he would have torn into Randall the way he had torn into Cordell, right in front of them and close enough that they could hear his terrified screams.

No, he didn’t want to do that because he didn’t want to make Abigail upset again. Not because he particularly cared about Abigail’s mental health but because he didn’t like how her terror upset Will.

 _You see,_  Abigail imagined,  _it all came back to Will in Hannibal’s mind_.

It was strangely comforting to know that no matter what happened to the rest of them, Will would be safe from harm. One less innocent death on her conscience, she supposed.

 _Although,_  she thought, as she started moving her hands back and fourth, sawing away at her bindings.  _Maybe they wouldn’t have to worry about any more death. Maybe, they’d soon get out of here._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't follow Hannibal's example. Fires are not meant to be lit in mines...
> 
> And now we're half way done. Only one more chapter to go! They'll be more Hannigram next chapter.


	2. The Tunnel of Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail sets her escape plan in motion and all is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, sorry for the long wait. This chapter has been a pain to edit. I kept adding scenes then deleting them and rewriting them and now I'm finally, finally happy with it. All the stuff I couldn't cover explaining in the fic I've added into the notes at the end. 
> 
> Hope you like it :).

The strange dreams started up again. This time the moon was half full.

 _How much time has passed?_  Abigail couldn’t help but wonder.

The fire must have gone out for the mine-shaft was dark. It was even darker than the last time she had dreamed this vividly. The shadows were no longer blue but pitch black. A menacing nightmare. She could tell this one would be a nightmare.

“I like you, Will. I don’t like your kind that often but I do enjoy your presence immensely,” she said. Her voice, soft and warm like honey, drifted between them.

“What? Scruffy dog lovers don’t usually do it for you?” Will snorted. “You think I couldn’t tell? The moment I rocked up in your hospital room there was this look on your face. A _dear God, no_ look. It was tough back then. Now it makes me laugh just thinking about it. You make the same face when I fry up fish for you. Your nose crinkles and your eyes narrow a little.”

“That is only to be expected. The fish is not people and people is better.”

Will choked on his own spit. “Not funny, Abigail. I don’t like talking about that.”

“Why? Is it because dark pasts revolt you or because the way they excite you frightens you?”

“Stop it,” Will’s raised voice echoed loudly around them. He lowered it accordingly. “Shit, I hope I didn’t wake up the wendigo. You know how cranky he can get without his beauty sleep. Those poor birds never knew what hit them.”

“How do you know about that?” She sounded alarmed.

“I sensed it with my mighty mind powers,” Will spoke spookily then chuckled. “He had a bloody feather under one of his massive hooves. It was kind of obvious. Plus, he had that look.” Will shuddered. “I hate that look.”

“What look?”

“The post kill look. He gets all…” Will swallowed heavily. “I can feel it. The pride. The pleasure it gives him. It emanates off him. It’s so powerful. I never feel him so strongly as I do in those moments.” Will cleared his throat. “And, you know, his stupid shoulders straighten up and his stupid gait widens and he has that stupid smirk. It’s so ugly.”

“If you find killers ugly then I’m curious what you find beautiful,” her voice added, almost eagerly, “particularly in a partner.”

“Not all killers. Not people who didn't get a choice like you. The ones that like it, revel it, those are the ugly ones. I'm not sure what I'd find beautiful in a partner though. Kindness, maybe?” If Abigail squints she can just make out a dark colour on Will’s face. A blush? “Shit, we’ve never talked about this, have we? I never imagined having anyone move in with us or for me to start seriously dating so there was no need to see if you'd be okay with that. It doesn’t look like I’ll be finding The One down here, anyway.”

“Don’t be so quick to jump to conclusions, Will. Sometimes one has to only look right in front of them to find a life companion.”

“Oh, well, let me see. To the left, I have a kinky sadist who might low key be into bestiality. I think I’ll pass. On the left of him, we have a law enforcement officer who tried to have you killed. Yeah, no.”

“I think you’ve forgotten someone, dear William.”

“Oh?”

Her voice hummed. “Our keeper.”

“Pft, of course. Why go for the man of your dreams when you can go for the beast of your nightmares?” Will sarcastically quipped.

“Indeed.”

There was a grim humour in their conversation. The way they sparred just worked. Her and Will had never had such a good conversation flow before. It was nice, different, but nice. Usually, the father and daughter dynamic made things a little more serious.

“While we are on the topic of lovers, tell me, Will, who’s that man who always stares at you so enamoured?” _So, we’re just going to dive right into the Matthew Brown situation? Great. Good going subconscious._

“Who?”

“Oh my, you mean to tell me you haven’t noticed? The man with the long face and short hair. Seems to have an obsession with hawks if his sleep talking is any indication. His eyes seem to gravitate in your direction," she replied, her tone irritated and pinched as though the very thought of Matthew offended her. That made sense though. Abigail didn’t think he was worthy of Will. No one here was.

“If by “eyes gravitate” you mean staring, then yes, I’ve noticed. But enamoured, no. I think for Matthew it’s more of a blood lust thing. You know, imagining my death in a multitude of creative ways.”

“Even with that extraordinary gift of yours you fail to notice the suitors clamouring for your attention.”

“Suitors plural? I hope you’re not insinuating that Jack’s also interested,” Will joked lightheartedly. 

“I wouldn’t be able to say no with certainty. You’re very attractive.” Oh man. This was weird. This was a weird conversation for Abigail to be having. “In fact, I’d wager you’re almost as attractive as our captor.”

_Oh. My. God. Stop. Just stop._

“Now you’re just teasing me.”

“A little. I like teasing you. Teasing can be a sign of friendship between individuals. Are we friends, Will?” Abigail wanted to laugh. What the hell was happening? Friends? That was so lame.

Will seemed to agree. “We’re more than friends. You’re my daughter, remember?”

She smiled softly again. She really liked that word. Daughter. It used to strike her with fear when her biological father called her that because he didn’t use it as a title or endearment but rather an excuse. An excuse to do horrible things. Abigail thought the word had been tainted for her before Will came along.

“We are family, then.”

“Yes.”

 _There!_ A shadow loomed large on the far wall. It looked like an outcropping of jagged rock. It looked like antlers.

Will sighed. “This cave of death isn’t the place for a family.”

“Debatable.”

“You don’t have to do that. Pretend everything’s fine so that I feel better. Like I haven’t failed you by letting this happen. I want you to know that I haven’t given up yet on escaping. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

The silence was deafening.

“No,” she said, voice stern and suddenly frightfully cold. Abigail shivered. She never knew she could sound so evil.

“No?”

“You swore that you would never leave me.” Abigail felt sorry for _herself._ The betrayal in her voice was so raw it was positively heartbreaking.

“I’d take you with me, obviously.”

“I would much rather you stay right here. If you leave I might become enraged and who knows what could happen then.”

That was the end of the conversation and the start of the worst nightmares Abigail had ever had in her entire life. Nightmares filled with sharp claws, glaring white eyes and snarling teeth. Nightmares piled high with dead bodies and when she looked closer, she noticed they were her, all her. She saw mountains of herself, skewed on thousands of antlers.

It felt like a premonition.

 

\----:----

 

“Why is he keeping us alive?” Matthew asked Will one day. It seemed like Abigail wasn’t the only one who was noticing the extra attention Will had been getting lately from their captor.  

"I think he’s uh rationing us,” Will replied faintly. 

“Saving us for later. Like the way ants stock up food for the winter.”

Abigail rolled her eyes. What was with this Matthew guy and his constant use of animal metaphors?  

“I actually think it’s more of a pleasure thing than a survival thing,” Will said, his voice strange and distant. “Kind of like fine wine, he wants to savour us by drawing out the temptation. He sniffs, licks and prods at us to whet his appetite.”

“Hell, he can wet me all he likes,” Mason smirked, glancing around the group with raised eyebrows. There was a collective groan of disgust. “Oh, come on! Can’t I have a little fun? Why are you all being so judgy?”

“Fair warning, bestiality is still considered illegal and I’m an officer. If I see a crime, I’m cuffing,” Jack informed the group, seemingly forgetting that he was still hanging immobilized from the ceiling. 

“Oooh, you brought handcuffs! Kinky. Why didn’t you say something sooner, Agent Crawford? I could really use those,” Mason said, licking his lips.

“Good, I’ll gladly cuff you and throw you into prison.”

“Ouch, your words hurt me so! I thought we were partners  _in crime._ The best kind of partners to be.” Mason surveyed the group, looking for some back up from the remaining former members of the Abigail murder party. His eyes ended up stopping on Will though.

“Uh oh, Graham’s not looking too good,” Mason announced, his voice full of delight. “You know what that means? Those that get sick get got.”

“Shut up!” Abigail snarled. _This isn’t the same as Randall or Cordell._ She reassured herself. _Will is different. Hannibal wouldn’t eat him_. _Even though Will isn’t looking too good. Even though Will’s skin has become pale and sweaty and his eyes are glazed over._  

Abigail would be worried it was a fever or an illness if she didn’t know any better.

Will was trying to empathise. Not just with Jack, Matthew and Mason but with Hannibal too and it obviously wasn’t good for his health mixing so many minds together at once. He whispered to her at night sometimes about who they could trust if they were given the chance to escape:

“Jack would be the best choice. Trained by the FBI and with the knowledge of how to get out of hostage situations. He still wants you dead though and will probably turn on you the second he gets the chance. Matthew, well, it turns out he does have a thing for me. We can manipulate that to our advantage. He’s our best bet. Mason can be left as a distraction. He can seduce the monster, so to speak, so we can make an escape.”

Abigail had bitten her tongue, wanting to point out that in order for a seduction to work Hannibal would have to be interested and if that was the route they were going to go down then Mason wouldn’t be the best bait. Knowing Will though, he’d probably make some courageous gesture of offering himself in her place if he knew just how fond Hannibal was of him. That was the last thing Abigail wanted so she had kept her mouth shut.

She was close to breaking the rope at this point. Abigail could feel it weakening in strength each day. She’d free Will first, then Matthew. Mason and Jack, they could stay and serve as consolation snacks _._

“It’s only a matter of time,” Mason announced, eyes gleaming. He was positively euphoric and though he was likely continuing on the conversation of Will’s death and probably hadn’t meant it as encouragement for escape, Abigail took it as such.

She had to just keep sawing. Just. Keep. Sawing. One day at a time.

 

\----:----

 

Night again. Abigail held her breath. The nights were scarier than the days now because where days were predictable, the nights weren’t. Every time the sun set and the mine was cast once more into darkness, her heart sunk. She wanted desperately to hide but there’s nowhere to hide when you’re bound out in the open.

“There was another once.”

“A what?” Will asked.

“Before there was you there was a young girl child I loved very dearly,” she whispered softly. Abigail wracked her brain, trying to figure out who it could be that she was talking about. _Merissa?_ They had met when they were both in kindergarten and Merissa had been both a girl and a child at the time so that made logical sense.

“Was she a friend?” Will asked.

Her voice shook slightly, “She was more of a sister to me.”

That was also true. Merissa had been like a sister to Abigail. You know, before all that shit about cannibalism got out into the papers and she cut all ties with her.   

“You lost her,” Will said and he sounded distant and faraway.

“Yes, and I vowed if I ever felt for another as I did her then I would never let them go.”

Will made a sympathetic noise. “She died.”

“No, she left me to venture into the vast tempting world. She said that she would visit though she never did come back. I’m certain she isn’t dead. I would feel it. We are bound through blood, after all, and we can sense our blood.”

“Why didn’t she come back?”

“Because she knew me well. I would have kept her with me at whatever cost. She barely slipped past me the first time. Dashing out in the dead of night aided her escape. I tried to track her down, but she picked a rather inconvenient time to leave. I still search for her when time constraints permit me.”

Abigail really had no idea what she was going on about at this point. None of this had ever happened to her. Perhaps this was her mind’s way of letting her deep-rooted abandonment issues be known to Will?

“Maybe this friend of yours wanted to be free.”  Will spoke gently. “If you really love someone then you’ve got to let them go. Their happiness should come first for you.”

“Their happiness or their safety?” She tsked and she sounded angry, furious even. “Because she would be safer under my protection and within my guidance.”

“Hey, I get it. I really do. When I first get a stray I want to keep them near me. I want to wrap them up in blankets and make sure nothing will ever hurt them again, but I can’t just follow them around and protect them. They need to have their own life or else I’ll risk suffocating them and then they’ll bolt the second the door is unlocked. You see what I mean?”

“Yes,” she replied solemnly. “Exits should never be easily locatable or left unguarded for they might escape and escape is inconceivable.”

“Inconvie- Abigail, think of it this way, would you rather have your loved ones close to you and hate you or far away and love you?”

“Oh, Will,” she sighed gently and her voice washed over them with its dreamy quality. “If you can ease your way into their mind and convince them that your brand of love is ideal then you can have it all.”

 

\----:----

 

The sawing motion had become such an ingrained part of her routine that Abigail didn’t even notice when the rope first fell away. It was only when she jabbed her wrist on the rusted nail and let out a yelp, hands instinctively coming away from the source of her pain, that she did realise. She stared down at the pale skin of her wrist, red lined and bleeding but free. _Free._

“Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!” she rushed out in excitement.

“What?” Will murmured and then gasped. “Holy shit.”

Abigail lurched towards Will. Her hands fumbled around his rope as she laughed hysterically, “They’re not enchanted, after all. Just well tied!” She frowned as the minutes passed and her fingers fumbled to no avail. “ _Really_ well tied.”

She looked up and saw the way Will’s face softened.

“Don’t you dare! Don’t you fucking dare!” she hissed. “I’m not leaving without you.”

“It’s taking too long. You’d have better luck running without me.”

“No.” Abigail shook her head because the thought was unthinkable. She’d already lost too many loved ones in her short life. She wouldn’t lose Will too.

She scavenged around the floor and her hands closed around a smooth object with a pointed tip. It was a bone. A human bone. She didn’t think of it as Cordell, the man it once belonged to, only as a sharp object to be used. She attacked the rope with renewed vigour and eventually she felt it slackening. She left Will to do the rest and moved towards Matthew.

By this time, Jack and Matthew had groused from their usual activities of day dreaming, sleeping and thinking.

“Well, who would have thought that the Hobbs girl would be our salvation?” Jack mused to himself. “If you think saving our lives makes up for the lives you helped your father take, you’re wrong.”

Abigail glared in Jack’s direction.

Jack hastily tacked on, “But letting us go is a good place to start.”

“I’m not letting _you_ go. Didn’t anyone tell you, you’re the consolation snack,” Abigail sneered. She then focused back on sawing Matthew’s binds until he too was free.

“What?” Jack boomed as Matthew, Will and Abigail began to group together and move away. “Get back here! You can’t leave us like this!”

“Why not?” Abigail asked and the genuine confusion in her voice sent Jack reeling for several moments.

“Because, well!” Jack spluttered. “It’s barbaric. You’re leaving us to be eaten alive. Mason, back me up here!”

Mason smiled serenely. “Hmm, what was that? I got a little distracted when you said eaten alive. I had the most wonderful little fantasy, let me tell you.”

Jack groaned.

“Wait a minute. You’re escaping? Oh, wendi’s going to be mad. Very, very mad.” Mason grinned widely. “I do so love it when he gets mad and he comes home smelling like blood and sweat! Oh, this is so exciting!”

“LET ME OUT OF HERE! YOU HEAR ME! LET ME OUT!” Jack screamed but the group had already melted into the shadows of the cave and had disappeared completely. 

A short amount of time had passed when Jack heard again the scuffle of footsteps. Someone had slunk away from the group. Abigail was probably the last person he expected to see and yet that was exactly who he saw step out of the shadows.

“Abigail?” Jack quietly spoke, realising the importance of keeping this a secret. She was acting incognito from the others, after all, and he probably thought that this was his one shot at survival. Abigail wanted to roll her eyes. As if she would betray Will.

“What are you doing here?” Jack asked.

“Plan B,” she whispered. “I haven’t got much time. All I know is that if we don’t get out of this, you’re Will’s last chance.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Look, I have a hunch that one of you,” Abigail’s eyes pinballed between Jack and Mason, “is getting out of here alive and my bets are on you.”

“How?”

"Simple. Hannibal's going to set you free."

Jack's eyebrows furrowed with confusion. "That makes no sense. Why would he do that?" 

“Because someone has to report the bear attack.”

“What bear attack? Oh,” Jack said, coming to the same realisation that she had long ago. Someone had to tell a story so the authorities would close the case and stop combing the woods for clues. Maybe this way they’d even give up trying to find the bodies.

“Don’t tell the police about Hannibal.”

“Who?”

“The wendigo,” Abigail corrected impatiently. “They’ll never believe you. Go along with the story _he_ gives you. Then find them.”

Jack’s hands twitched in his restraints towards his head. Abigail wondered if this overload of information was giving him a headache. Good. He deserved it. “Find who?”

“The monster hunters.”

Jack looked down his nose at her and God if it wasn’t patronizing. “You’ve been watching too much T.V., kid. Monster hunters don’t exist.”

“Just like monsters didn’t exist before we saw Hannibal?” Abigail snarled because Jack’s high and mighty attitude had gotten old long ago. “Just because you haven’t seen something doesn’t mean it’s not real. Besides, where there are monsters there are bound to be hunters and you’re going to find them and bring them here.”

“Why?”

“To save the lives of all the campers and hunters that come after us.” Abigail paused, voice softening. “And for Will. Please, promise me.”

Abigail froze, listening carefully to her surroundings. “I’ve got to go. Promise me, Jack. Please.”

She turned around and bolted after the others.

She could only just make out Jack’s muffled reply echoing after her, “I’ll do whatever I can do to save lives.”

It was exactly what she thought he would say.

 

\----:----

 

“Where did you go?” Will demanded.

“Just checked out a nearby tunnel. It looked promising.”

“Matthew’s got a better idea,” Will said. Matthew’s head shot up at the praise, sending a gloating smile Abigail’s way. “It’s pretty easy. I’m embarrassed we didn’t think of it ourselves. We follow its footprints.”

Will gestured to the floor. She could just make out the soft indents in the rocky dirt. Although, they were more like deer’s hoofprints than human footprints.

“What about when we get deeper and the fire’s too far away to be able to see?” Abigail asked.

Matthew procured a familiar yellowish bone wrapped in a shirt. Coincidently, Matthew was also shirtless. _No correlation what so ever,_ she thought sarcastically. The make shift torch burned bright yellow.

“I borrowed some of the wendigo's fire. It’s a good thing it’s still cold out, ay?” Matthew spun around with a whoosh. “This way, men and women.”

He paused when Will made to go first. “Ladies first.”

He then looked pointedly in Abigail’s direction. Abigail sighed and rolled her eyes, knowing exactly what was going on.

She moved forward. Her feet crunched on something hollow. She glanced down and her breath stopped at the sight of bone fragments and scraps of green, brown and orange material strewn across the floor. The clothes were tattered and torn and black with blood. Blood was on the walls too where hand prints had been pressed and corresponding black footprints smeared onto the ground. All telling stories of horror. The make-shift candle cast a garish yellow light so the size of the bones were amplified where their shadows flickered against the walls. It was death. A tunnel of death. There was so much blood, so many bones and so many clothes. For years and years it must have stacked up. How many had come before them? How many had survived?

Abigail knew the answer. _No one. No one yet._

She reached behind her. Her fingers fumbled around until she touched a hand. It was soft and a little smaller than she remembered as thin fingers ran up and down her palm almost…sensuously. Her wrist was squeezed then fingers danced up her arm into the crook of her elbow. She turned her head, the question of “What the hell?” perched on the tip of her tongue. She made eye contact with Matthew and dropped her gaze down to his fingers resting on her elbow. Matthew’s own eyes widened at the realisation of whose hand he was _not_ caressing and he hurriedly stepped away.

Will obliviously sauntered ahead with the make-shift candle.

 _He’d probably found it easy to steal it from Matthew,_ Abigail mused.

Will took in the surrounding blood bath.

“Jesus, how long do you reckon he’s been doing this for?”

“I don’t know,” Abigail paused to think about the answer. “Years. Decades. Centuries even. Does it really matter?”

“Yes.” Will sighed heavily. “We can’t leave. Not in good conscience. We have to stop this.”

“Stop what?”

“This death,” Will spat.

“We can’t. Not yet. We don’t know enough. We don't even have any weapons,” Abigail tried to keep her voice steady, but she couldn’t keep the wavering panic at bay. Will didn’t understand. He couldn’t fathom the full horror of the future Hannibal had planned for them. Just the thought of what Hannibal would do if he caught Will trying to escape him made her want to cry.

“If we leave now we won’t come back. We’ll talk ourselves out of it. As for weapons, I’m sure we can find something sharp in these tunnels. Now who’s with me on staying around and ending this bastard?”

Matthew predictably cheered along his allegiance to Will.

“It’s okay, Abigail. We’ll take you out, make sure you’re safe and then we’ll come back for _it._ ” The word _it_ rolled on Will’s tongue filled with such scathing hatred.

The mood seemed to shift with a hostility filling the air. She shivered and looked around her uneasily. Something didn’t feel right.

They continued on their way. Unfortunately, there were no weapons casually strewn about (Not that Abigail thought there would be). To make matters worse, the trail began looping back over itself. It felt like they were going in circles. It was almost as if Hannibal had walked back and forth in thousands of different directions to create this endless loop.

“I don’t get it! We’re getting nowhere!” Matthew fisted his hair with frustration. “It feels like we’ve been walking for hours.”

Abigail’s blood ran cold as a frighting realisation came over her. “It’s a trap. This has all been a trap from the nail to now. A test of loyalty,” her voice dropped to a low whisper, “and we’ve failed.”

“Ah, Abigail. Always the most perceptive of them all. I applaud your efforts.” Abigail jumped, whirling around to face Will because it was undoubtably Will’s voice that said it, low and rough sounding.

“You scared the shit out of me!” she gasped. “Don’t ever do that again!”

“I didn’t say anything,” Will said and his voice sounded hoarse, scared even.

“But I heard you!” Abigail insisted.

Matthew flung an accusing finger Will’s way. “He’s working with the wendigo! My God, the obsession runs both ways. I’ve been so blind. I thought we had something, Will. Something _special_.”

“Okay, first off,” Will gestured between himself and Matthew, “There’s nothing going on between us. And secondly, I’m not working with the man eater because _I’m_ a man and that’s counterproductive to my survival. I’m not an idiot, guys!”

“You’re also not William’s type because he doesn’t hold an affinity for killers. You see, this makes things rather difficult for me.” A voice chimed in, only this time it was in Jack’s deep and gruff timbre.

“Wait, how did Jack get free?” Abigail rubbed her temples. “I’m getting really confused.”

“Now don’t disappoint me, Abigail. You’ve proven yourself to be very adept at problem solving. Tell me what you believe is happening.” And there is was, her voice, the one from her dreams. Her but not her and something it had said in the past struck her in this moment: “ _This majestic being seems to surpass the normal laws of nature. It moves at incredible speeds for one and it has enough strength to carry four grown men and a woman with ease. Who knows what other gifts it possesses…”_

“Oh my God, it’s Hannibal.”

“Who? What’s going on, Abigail?” Will demanded.

“The wendigo! He’s right here! He’s talking to us!”

“Pft. What does that filthy animal know of our language? It’s likely too complicated for its simple brain to understand. It- owwwww!” Matthew stumbled forward. In the flickering light of the candle, Abigail could just make out a fleshy stump at the end of his arm. His hand, cut free from his body, rested on the ground and its reflection was projected onto the mine’s walls. It looked like some sort of tentacled monster with each finger sinisterly elongated in the candlelight, but, as Abigail was quickly learning, it wasn’t the only monster here. She slowly turned around, looking at every angle. She saw nothing and yet he was here. How was that even possible? Unless… _“Who knows what other gifts it possesses.”_

“You can imitate our voices. Mimic and adapt them,” Abigail’s heart hammered in her chest with each word. She snatched the candle from Will’s slack hand and crept around, raising it every few steps as she tried in vain to find the wendigo.

“Yes, very good,” Will’s voice purred but it was dark and twisted so the praise that would usually make her proud now only made her shiver.

“You’ve been talking to Will. Pretending to be me. Learning all you could about him,” Abigail accused.

“What?” Will spluttered. “No! He couldn’t have. I would have known!”

“You were half asleep and very malleable. Don’t blame yourself, my darling.” And this. This was different. It was a voice unlike anything she’d ever heard. It was deep like Will’s voice though smoother with more of an accent. It was filled with dominance like Jack’s voice but softer and more coaxing. It had the flirtatious purr of Mason’s voice but instead of it being course and high it was dark and rolled words sensuously. It was a combination of all of their voices rolled into one unique voice that mustered all the menace a wendigo could desire.

Matthew’s eyes had started rolling back in his head from blood loss and he didn’t seem to have the energy for a grand reaction. Will seemed to be frozen in shock. His mouth had dropped open and his eyes ticked back and forth as everything began slotting into place for him.

“You want a mate and you want it to be me,” Will whispered. “That’s why you asked me about what I liked in partners and that’s why we kept having those talks about how great you were, heroic even. God, you were basically playing wing man to yourself.”

“Oh dear, it really took you that long to realise my intentions,” Hannibal tsked with open disappointment, “and here I thought you were so perceptive. Then again, I did note you have a bit of a blind spot for suitors. No matter, I’ll make sure you never doubt my affections again in the future.”

It was probably meant to sound sweet but like most things Hannibal had said thus far there was an underlying threat.

“That’s not it. There’s something else you haven’t told us,” Abigail whispered before stilling because there it was. There was an outline of an antlered monster on the back wall where the tunnel curved right and yet Hannibal’s black glittering body was nowhere in sight. That shadow though. That shadow was the key. One might have dismissed it as the trick of the light or her imagination running wild, but Abigail knew better. Her mind flashed back to when she had first met Hannibal. How he had flickered into focus when he was leaning over Will. One minute there was nothing and the next there he was motionless as a statue.

“You can camouflage and blend into your surroundings by changing colour.” She spun around, trying to trace the shadow. It should be directly across from her. She paused. Will was directly across from her which meant…

“You’re in-between us. Separating us. It’s what you’ve wanted this whole time. You want Will for yourself.” The words wouldn’t stop now, her theories spewed past her lips in a frantic tumble. “You’ve been waiting for the chance and now you have one.”

Hannibal blinked into existence. He was just as she said he would be, exactly in the middle of Will and her, though he had stood a little to the side so she could see Will. He now moved in front of them, blocking her sight. Hannibal's hands clapped together slowly, his claws clinking together like broken glass. His back was to her, of course. The wendigo never turned down the opportunity to stare at Will.

“Well done, Abigail. What a cunning girl you are.”

“How long have you been there watching us?” Will croaked out and his teeth clattered in what Abigail could only imagine was a full body shudder.

“Almost the entire time, I’m afraid. I am unable to predict everything - though I am pleased to see Abigail thinks so highly of me - and was caught a little unawares when I returned from a hunt to see you gone. Though it was no difficulty at all to track you down and watch this little goose chase take place,” It was spoken so flippantly as if Will and Abigail’s attempt to run was amusing to the wendigo; as if their life was a game. “I must admit though, I am very disappointed, William,” Hannibal’s tone dropped several octaves until it was deep and furious. “You promised to never leave me and yet here you are having clearly plotted to escape and then to return to destroy me. It simply won’t do.”

“It wasn’t you I was promising that to! It was Abigail! You misled me! You let me believe I was talking to someone I wasn’t!” Abigail imagined Will’s face was getting red at the injustice of it all because in Will’s mind that’s how the world worked. There was justice and injustice and justice always won but not this time. Not this time. “You manipulated me. The promise is void.”

“Not in my mind,” Hannibal replied. “A promise is a promise. Besides, if you were as clever as your dear daughter and used your gift then you would have surely realised who it was that you were conversing with. It’s not as if I tried overly hard to conceal it. I left so many obvious clues. In fact,” Hannibal gave a sharp smile. “I would wager that you purposely blinded yourself to the truth. That you meant what you said to me but you just couldn’t admit it to yourself.”

“That’s bullshit! You know that’s all bullshit!” Will screamed.

There was a smack. Abigail couldn’t see anything past the breadth of Hannibal’s shoulders. The wendigo’s large body was like a black hole in the tunnel, sucking all the light and joy around it. She could only assume from the noise and Will’s muffled swearing what had taken place, that Will had punched Hannibal, and based on Hannibal’s eerie stillness it hadn’t done anything apart from further anger the wendigo.

The tension in the tunnel became stronger until she was struggling to breathe.

There was a scuffling noise and this time Hannibal’s arm flew up, catching something in mid-air. Abigail could see through Hannibal’s claws flashes of Will’s skin. It was odd to see them joined like that, holding hands, almost romantic.

“It’s alright, Will. I forgive you.”

A kiss was pressed to the knuckle. Will’s hand jerked but Hannibal held firm.

“Do you really?” Will asked skeptically but there was hope in his voice. Abigail pictured the raised eyebrow that usually accompanied such a tone. It was better than staring at Hannibal who had turned his head around. His lifeless eyes roved over her and lingered on her neck where a faint pink scar still lingered.

“Yes, but will you forgive me?” It was spoken softly like a gentle caress, yet there was something in Hannibal's eyes. A warning. More so for her than Will. Hannibal was giving her time to say her goodbyes.

“Forgive you? For what? Kidnapping us? If you let us go, I might.” Oh Will, so wonderfully optimistic even after all this time.

Abigail placed the candle down and Hannibal rewarded her by letting Will go and stepping away from him. She barreled straight for her father with her arms open wide. They crashed into each other and Will instantly wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her close. It felt like it always did. It felt like home.

“You’re the best father I ever had. God, I love you so much,” she mumbled into Will’s chest and lowered her voice to a low whisper. “Hold in there, Will. You’ll get out one day. Just hold in there.”

“Where’s this coming from?” Will laughed lightly. “This sounds like a goodbye.”

Abigail leaned back and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Will’s face fell.

“Why does this sound like a goodbye?” Will asked, deadly serious.

There was a light tap on her shoulder. She would know that cold deathly touch from anywhere. Abigail picked up the candle and gave the light to Will to head off the darkness. God knows he would need it. Then she slowly stepped away.

 _Here’s to the end,_ she thought to herself. _In a dank mine that smells like death and tears. I lived longer than I thought I would at least._

“Abigail, come back. He’s going to let us go now. He’s sorry.” Will reached for her, trying to clutch at her arms but she danced out of his way. In the process, Will dropped the candle. It spluttered out and darkness remained with only a few rays of moonlight. The shadows came to life. They were in her nightmare world now.

Abigail trembled but held firm in her resolve as she moved further away from Will. She wanted this to go as smoothly as possible. She didn’t want Will to remember her grabbing at his shoulders, begging him to hold her tighter so the monster couldn’t separate them. She didn’t want him to remember her crying hysterically and her nose running with snot. He would remember her as proud and brave.

“Abigail?!” Will wailed, high and panicked. The sound bounced off the walls. “Abigail!”

But Abigail was already gone, stepping into the hard cold embrace of the wendigo.

“Give her back!”  Will rushed towards them but Hannibal picked her up and in a blur she found herself on the opposite end of the tunnel. Will’s footsteps thundered towards them. Hannibal moved again and again, always waiting until Will was just within reach before moving. Taunting him.

It was only when Will finally collapsed against one of the mine walls that Hannibal clicked his claws together and called for Mason. The man came bounding over frolicking like a dog to its master. Abigail was reminded of bumbling Cordell always hurrying to obey every command of Masons. Oh, how the tables had turned.

“Hold Will still,” Hannibal ordered and Mason launched himself at Will, twisting Will’s arms behind his own back with a cackle of glee. Will would usually have been able to get out of such an amateur hold but he was too tired from all his earlier running. His movements were feeble as he struggled.

“You swore on all that you held dear, Will. Think of this as repayment for promises broken.”

“N-no. Please don’t,” Will gasped out. “I’ll never forgive you if you kill her. Never forgive you.”

A sudden fit of energy came over him as he fought desperately to get to her. Abigail felt a tear trickle down her cheek as she stared at Will.

“Please don’t eat me like the others,” she begged Hannibal.

A cold claw traced down her neck and lingered on her pulse point.

“But that would be such a waste. Such an intelligent brain deserves to be savoured.”

Abigail trembled as she remembered Cordell’s screams.  

“I’m only teasing. I understand what you mean. You wish not to go quite as painfully as those that have gone before, yes? I will be kind with you, Abigail. I will be kind because you are cunning and brave and because I do hope one day to be forgiven. Think of this as an act of mercy. There is no more room for you in Will’s life.”

The claws drew across her throat lightly at first as though testing the give. She was tempted to look down but a voice stopped her. It was Will’s voice. “Don’t watch. Focus on me. Focus on my voice. Listen to me. It’s going to be okay.”

But whether it was Will or Hannibal talking she wasn’t sure and then it didn’t matter because the claws pierced her and pulled and all she felt was bright hot pain. She felt the blood trickling down her neck to stain her collar. Another blood-stained shirt soon to be added to the pile at her feet.

Abigail’s body crumpled forward and Hannibal let her go, letting her collapse to the ground.

The wendigo was on Will in a second. He shoved Mason away and cradled Will’s head, rocking the man as he moaned her name and it hurt. It hurt her so much to see Will desperate like that; more than the wound on her neck, more than the guilt of being a serial killer’s accomplice ever had.

“Get off me! Get off!” Will screeched, thrashing about but Hannibal’s hold was too tight. “I just want to hold her. One more time. Just let me hold her.”

Hannibal made a soothing noise and cooed something soft until Will fell limp in his arms. The wendigo probably thought he had succeeded in calming Will down but instead Will was using the position to prop his head up on Hannibal’s bony shoulder and look over at her. His right arm reached out for her and though the limb was too short to reach, the shadow of it did. It brought her some measure of comfort.

“I love you. I love you. I love you,” Will chanted repeatedly and Hannibal made an affirmative noise probably thinking, quite deludedly, that it was him Will was talking about.

Abigail opened her mouth and tried to speak but her throat only made whistling noises.

She let her head fall limp on her arm and mouthed. “Hold in there, Will. Help is coming. Coming.” Her breathing slowed and it became harder to move her lips but still she tried, tried for Will. “Com- _ing.”_

She wasn’t sure if this would ever be the case but hope, that was a powerful heady thing. A lifesaving thing and she wanted Will to live more than anything. And one day, maybe, just maybe, he’d fashion his own escape and live for the both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End.
> 
> So, who do you think was speaking to Abigail at the end, Will or Hannibal? What do you think happens after Abigail dies? Is Will stuck with Hannibal forever? If so, does Will eventually grow to love him? Perhaps Jack go's and finds Sam and Dean and sends them to kill Hannibal? Do the Winchester brothers succeed in killing Hannibal or do they die? Maybe none of that happens and Will escapes using his own craftiness. It's all up to you.
> 
> Some explanations for a few of the things I changed from the Supernatural canon (Oh no, this is going to be a big chapter note): 
> 
> Wendigos go into hibernation mode for 23 years at a time and come out to feast which is canon in the Supernatural show. Wendigo Hannibal still does this but I’ve modified it so that on the 23rd year he spends a year building up his body mass (by eating people) and preparing for the next 23 years which is why all the gang stay alive for so long (Also, Hannibal is still figuring out what to do with Will to keep him with him for the 23 years when he’s hibernating and vulnerable). Mischa is not a wendigo. Hannibal didn't force her to eat people because he didn't want to see her lose her childish innocence. Because she didn’t partake in enough human like her brother, she was still human and was able to slip out and escape just when Hannibal was about to go into wendigo hibernation mode for the next 23 years. That’s the whole thing about time restraints not permitting Hannibal to follow her.
> 
> Also different from the show, wendigo Hannibal doesn't just parrot people by repeating their words. He can mash sentences together and say whatever he likes now. I imagine that at the beginning he mimicked human language before realizing the benefits of learning it and during one of his yearly food storage years, he kept a human alive long enough to teach him some English which he perfected as time passed. I’m not sure if this is what it was like in the show but I also gave Hannibal the ability to perfectly replicate individual people’s voices (be it male and female) and use them.
> 
> Fire is still as deadly to Hannibal in this as it is to the wendigo in Supernatural canon. That's why he waits until Abigail puts the candle down before grabbing her.
> 
> The thing with blood and being bound by it is something I just added in. I imagine in this fic that once wendigo Hannibal tastes a person’s blood it becomes inbuilt into his memory and an invisible tether attaches between them and the person’s blood he tasted. By this, I mean Hannibal can then track the person no matter how far they are from him through his connection. That’s why he tastes Randall’s blood in the cave after he sets him loose. Also, the bloody nail Abigail leaves when she escapes seals her fate as Hannibal uses that to track the group down. Hannibal will probably get a sample of Will’s blood also at some point too, sooner rather then later.


End file.
